CHAPTER 1
I, Blair Evans, am invisible.
I glide down the center of the corridor straight into the
crowd like a bowling ball barreling toward the head pin, but
no one acknowledges my presence. Instead, they veer off toward
the banks of steel-blue lockers hugging the walls as though I’m
an unseen force parting the Red Sea.
I wave to a girl from my International Foods class who was in
my sushi-making group a few days ago, but she plows forward
like she’s got blinders on, not even a flicker of acknowledgement.
I jump into the path of a boy from my AP Calculus class, swinging
my palm back and forth like a windshield wiper in front of his
face. Hello? Do you not see me?
He pivots to the right and sails by like I don’t exist.
I freeze and my stomach drops out, sucking my life force right
along with it. Have I been canceled . . . or worse, erased?
To be honest I did expect some negative greetings upon my
return to school today, I just never expected to be totally ignored.
I’ve learned how to handle nasty taunts and derisive stares over
the years, but this flat-out dismissal is so unnerving.
While I’m resigned to the fact that my lowly Class C rank at
Westberry High is forever etched into the school’s concrete foundation,
it’s beyond demoralizing to be completely frozen out—relegated
to Class Non-Existent. Apparently not even going out with
the most popular boy in the senior class can save me.
I scan the continuous stream of kids searching for a friendly
face, but I can’t find even one. The Ice Queen’s sphere of influence is too strong;
no one will meet my eyes. They all just look right through me.
Ultra-paranoid now, I shuffle toward homeroom, my spirit
deflating with each step. As I round the corner past the floor-to-ceiling
plate-glass windows of the cafeteria, an old crush of mine
almost takes me down. I know it’s not intentional, but Hunter
Hartman’s left arm collides with my right wrist, sending my cell
phone flying out of my hand and skidding down the wide gray
tiles like a curling stone sailing across the ice.
Hunter rushes to scoop it up, extending it out to me with a
super contrite, “I’m so sorry, Blair. I didn’t mean to knock into
you.”
Hallelujah! I’m not an apparition!
I’m elated to be acknowledged—and by Hunter, no less. If someone
has to crash into me, let it be him. “No big deal. It happens,”
I say, as I check my home screen to make sure it’s not cracked.
He quickly changes the subject, his round, luminous eyes full
of concern. “Are you okay? I saw the arraignment yesterday and
it was so messed up. I can’t believe Krystal Cooper’s mother did
that to you.”
I blow out a long sigh. Hunter obviously isn’t aware of what
the Ice Queen’s mother is capable of . . . the lengths she’ll go
to get what she wants. The fact is, besides raising a despicable
daughter, she’s a criminal herself. But I do appreciate his support
in this ocean of antipathy. “It’s beyond messed up. That woman
is seriously crazy.”
He nods. “For sure. She deserves to go to jail.”
Hunter has the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen, like bright emerald
gemstones, and I realize I hold my gaze a little too long. But his
eyes are so kind and caring—the only ones that have even looked
at me today.
The homeroom bell rings and panic flashes across his face, his
dark lashes springing up. “I’ve gotta get to English. Catch ya later.” I’ve got to run myself or I’m going to be late too. But lucky
me, not ten steps later, I encounter my former childhood friend,
Alyssa Levine. I can’t escape without her shrieking, “Blair! I can’t
believe you’re here!”
This girl is so fake my friends and I call her Splenda. As usual,
she’s wearing a wide plastic grin, her phoniness dialed all the way
up. I know her pathetic act is for the benefit of the two deplorable
girls at her side, BM and the Mullet. Being in the presence of
these three vipers makes my scalp prickle and my gut twist. Now
I wish I was invisible.
“Yeah,” says BM, the larger of Splenda’s sidekicks. BM stands
for Big Mouth and hers is outlined in dark mahogany lip liner and
moves in and out like a giant blowfish. “You’ve got a lot of nerve
coming to school today. If I were you, I would never show my face
around here again!”
I have a great comeback about her face, but I gulp hard and
swallow it. I promised myself I would take the high road and not
sink to their level no matter how low they go. And as usual, they
go low.
The other sidekick, the Mullet, is really Molly DiFrancesco and
her nickname comes from the sixth grade when kids learned that
molly is a type of fish and started calling her Molly Mullet. She’s
Westberry’s thespian star, and she never resists an opportunity
to take a swipe at me. Her head bobs in rapid succession as she
points an accusatory finger at my sternum. “She’s right. After
what you did to Krystal’s poor mother, you should be hiding in
your room. Under your bed!” The rotten threesome throw their
heads back and roar with laughter.
After what I did to Krystal’s mother?
Not surprisingly she’s got the situation completely backward,
but there’s no point in arguing with her. I’ve learned that when
someone hates you that much and manipulates the facts to suit
their own purposes, you’re never going to win. Splenda arcs her catty, frosted hair-framed face toward mine,
close enough that I can smell her yucky morning breath. “Honestly,
I’d be scared to be here if I were you.”
Uh, that I can’t let go. It’s not one of her typical snide barbs . . .
this has malice behind it.
I straighten my spine to meet her head on. “Are you threatening
me?”
She releases a loud cackle, her inner witch poking through.
“Just saying, don’t be surprised if something happens to you.”
Now that is a threat. But I’m not going to give her the satisfaction
of showing any alarm. I paste on a cool plastic smile
that mirrors hers and assume a more confident stance, chin up,
shoulders squared. “And what kind of thing might happen to me?”
“Oh . . . uh . . . I’m not saying something will, but if it does,
don’t be surprised. That’s all.”
Why are they trying to scare me? What do they know that I
don’t?
Without breaking the stare, I deliver my own saccharine-sweet
response. “Actually, I can’t even imagine what you’re talking about
because everyone else in the school has been really great so far.”
Not exactly true, but these three witches don’t need to know that.
I can see from the way they eye each other that they’re surprised
I’m not rattled or intimidated.
But the real question is, should I be?
